For Slytherin's Sake
by SandyDunes
Summary: This isn't the girl we know from the books. She starts off rather same but as she progresses, she struggles to find her right footing wherever she stands. Will she be able to become the girl we know and hate? Or somebody else entirely.
1. For Slytherin's Sake

Disclaimer: I dont own Harry Potter.

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"Slytherin!"

Pansy Parkinson let out a breath of relief.

She settled the Sorting Hat back into the hands of Deputy Headmaster McGonagall and approached the table situated at one of the corners of the Great Hall, the one where students have their ties decked in silver and green. They clapped for her.

She has been sorted in the noble house of Slytherin.

The knots in her stomach loosened. The rampant thoughts of not ending up in Slytherin had her strung up for the past hour, one ridiculous one being her ending up in Gryffindor, now that would be a tough subject to explain to her parents.

_Ugh, no_. Pansy mentally berated herself for thinking that she would have ended up anywhere other than Slytherin and proceeded to brush the thought away, finally reaching her new house table.

Polite nods greeted her and she settled next to another first year.

Then, once she was quite comfortable in her seat, she looks around, searching for _him_. The one her mother has been talking about for ages, the boy who was the scion of the most powerful figure in the Wizengamot and the biggest influence in Wizarding Britain.

Draco Malfoy. The boy her mother has been drilling to her about most constantly.

His platinum blonde hair was striking and his features were pointy, the baby fat not nearly able to cover them away. He held his head high and his nose upturned to anything.

_Huh_. She thinks. Her eyes raking over him as he gets called up, her head tilting to the side.

_He's so tiny._

Well of course, she too, is rather small. And the seniors here at Hogwarts completely dwarf her. But to see her knight in shining armour so... child like, and somehow _prettier _than her, she wonders if all the fairy tales she's read so far had some facts somehow inaccurate.

She berates herself once again and tells herself that it was irrelevant.

He too, is sorted in Slytherin and sits between Crabbe and Goyle not too far from where she's seated. Then, he leers across the room to where the remaining first years stood and Pansy looks too.

Ah. The Great Harry Potter. She leans forward slightly when the woman, McGonagall, pauses for a moment to then call his name. The boy in regard scuffles up to the stool and the old hat settles homily at the top of his unruly black mop of a hair.

The Hall in itself seems to hold their breath as silence drags on and then the hat shouts "Gryffindor!". The hall seems to roar into motion, there's a blooming applause from the Gryffindor table, students excitedly chatter to one another and even the Slytherin table mummers their thoughts to each other. In the corner of her eye she sees that the Malfoy heir scoffs and sneers at the red and gold table, muttering misgivings and the two boys by his side snickering at his words.

"Can't say no one saw that coming," said a voice beside her, she turned to see the Nott heir. Inwardly, she scolded herself for not paying any attention to her surroundings, she had simply blanked after she saw the Malfoy boy and Potter.

She made a noncommittal hum, "Surely, the hat saw something unworthy," she comments. Nott turns to look at her, "It certainly explains why he's not sitting here," she finished with a sniff. From the corner of her eye she saw Malfoy appraising her and she smiled to herself, pleased that she got some bonus points in.

"Perhaps," was all the boy said, nodding.

The sorting continued and she took up conversation with her fellow first years.

Now, they have all heard of each other, have attended a few balls of their adult parents and more or less introduced already. The chatter of the hall became louder as the sorting carried on and when finished the headmaster gave a speech which befuddled Pansy as she wondered what went through his head to say such ridiculous words and shivered at the 'certain death' which has a room for theirself tucked in at Hogwarts. After that, they were ushered to their Houses and all the first years shuffled to their respective dormitories.

After she and her dormmates were better acquainted with each other she sat down beside the window and wrote a letter to her parents about the good news and the days worth.

She lies in bed that first night, staring at the delicate silver embroidery wrapping around the bed. While the other girls fall quiet, their breathing filling the silent quell of the night ambience, she recollected the coming and goings of the day. _I'm going to stay here for seven years, does anyone else find that mystifying?_ She muses, the thought making her seem small and inconceivable. She shrugs off the discomfort the thought brought her and lets the exhaustion of the day catch up to her and she doses off.

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I'm basically flying by the seat of my pants and criticism is much needed. So, leave a review! Reviews are love!


	2. Dynamics and Senior's influence

It wasn't quite hard to get close to the Malfoy scion, infact for the better part of the day she spent, she spent with malfoy.

Pansy felt very disillusioned, it seems that Malfoy had a very unhealthy obsession with the potter boy and sometimes she is mildly exasperated by it. The weeks went by and all she learned about malfoy was that he was very opinionated and spoilt.

So, in the end she decided to spend less time with the boy, feeling that her brain cells were dying at a rapid rate with all the father worship she listened to and the praises she had to sing. She didn't mention her reluctance to her mother though, deeming it safer not to.

Her company consisted of her dormmates and a few yearmates from other houses not baring just females.

She spent her time in the slytherin common room the most, socializing was something her mother deemed very important, it wasn't difficult in the least since most of the Slytherin were people she was acquainted with already.

Its true she got along fine with her other Slytherin dormmates, well, except Bulstrode. However, she wasn't alone in this, everyone had this uneasiness with Bulstrode. She was rude, snapping at silly things and scowling at the tiniest things, so, more often than not, Pansy and the others grumbled and scoffed at her behaviour.

One example was when the other day, while Pansy was searching for her comb which fell beween her bed and the headboard, Bulstrode bursts in the room and accused her of stealing her hairbands.

Pansy was so startled that she fell off the bed and hit her shin. But Bulstrode then started to dig through pansy's drawers. enraged, pansy had to forcibly shove her away lest she broke her perfume bottles.

Bulstrode then screeched bloody murder and ran out.

Pansy was mortified and flushed with anger. With all her hair puffy and unruly, she harrumped harshly and gathered the items which fell out of her drawers.

Daphne, who watched the whole debacle, tsked,

"Would it do the girl any favour to learn some proper manners? Typhical halfbloods"

Pansy silently wondered if being a halfblood contibuted to her behaviour, seems unrrasonable. Though her mother would probably agree.

She sighed in irritation, "Its ridiculous she keeps acting like this, its driving the whole school barmy with her snapping at everything," she waspy said. Daphne hummed in agreement, "Someone ought to teach her a lesson," with a swish of her wand she neatly helped Pansy with the mess.

Pansy breathed a sigh of relief, "You need to teach me how to do that."

Daphne nodded, "Its a fairly easy spell, it really helps cleaning up messes without anyone finding out about it," she smiled deviously.

Pansy laughed, "Got to hand it to you, being so sneaky all the time." Daphne sniffed, picking up her bag, "It wouldn't do a Slytherin any good not to have a few tricks up their sleeve."

Pansy followed suit and they both made their waty to their first class of the day, Transfiguration with Huffelpuffs.

"So does this mean you have more tricks you could teach me?"

"Cheek is not your best trait, Parkinson."

And so went the day once more.

_ _ _

Pansy's classes were more or less simple, the spells they had taught weren't anything difficult, that is wasn't anything her private tutors taught her before enrollment. They had Transfigurations with Huffelpuffs, and while she hadn't felt the urge to show off how ahead of the class she was, she felt a smidgen of satisfaction when McGonagall nodded, "Five points to Slytherin, for proper show of spell work," and if there was a slight tilt to her head,she'd admit, it was due praise for her diligence back at her home.

"That's amazing, Parkinson," said Savita Smite her parther in Transfiguration, "I've been at this for minutes now but I haven't managed a single change," and glared mutinously at the innocent needle as if such a feat could turn it to a gleaming silver. In the end she just huffed and turned to Pansy, eyes pleading, "Drop some hints will you?"

Pansy nodded, still pleased with her work on her needle lying almost as pristine as a certain Malfoy's hair.

I was a simple solution really, she had the same struggle with it when she first attempted the transfiguration. "McGonagall said to put an intent to turning the matchstick in to a needle and all but you have to imagine the matchstick actually turning into a needle, visualize the tips if the match stick turning silver and the end narrowing, the head too, turning to the eye of the needle," Pansy explained and it was a simple transfiguration and didn't require much concentration and willpower, and she was more proud of her being prepared for her class beforehand.

Savita nodded and turned resolutely to her matchstick, a look of focus in her eyes, and leveled her wand at the matchstick,"Conmutocus!", the single match shivered momentarily before morphing into a needle.

Or half a needle. The head was still a matchstick with the end a pointy shiny needle.

Savita sagged in disappointment, "It's hopeless," she bemoaned. Pansy giggled abit, but before she could say a word to her, McGonagall bounded over and nodded to them, "Halfway there Miss Smite," she encouraged and left them to watch over a Huffelpuff boy fumbling with his pronunciations.

Savita had a slight redness to her cheeks, "Oh no," she mumbled. Pansy could relate, a few days into the system of the school, it was so very obvious that simple spells that the first years found difficult, their seniors would scoff at their puny incompetence.

So, it was to no alarm that Slytherin first years took to their spell works a bit differently, no one wanted to be that dumb kid who couldn't do a simple Wingardium Leviosa. Thus, no one complained about their short comings but rather bragged about how easy they found their materials, courtesy of a certain Malfoy. McGonagall had unknowingly brought attention to her 'half-arsed' work, and for young eleven year old Savita, it might have been the most embarassing moment of the decade for her. To add a cherry on top, McGonagall was doing it out of goodwill.

The rest of the Slytherins had already turned the match into a somewhat silver but undoubtedly needle, Savita muttered the spell a few more times and could now get a fully transfigured needle, albiet it was more grey than silver now.

But Pansy nodded, "Give it a few more practices and you'll have a shiny pointy needle to stab anyone you please.", Savita snorted but kept to herself for the rest of the class. It was over soon and they both quickly gathered their bags and shuffled out with the rest of the class.

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End file.
